How Deep a Mind Can Go

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untitledI express myself through words,
One letter at a time,
The best of me flows,
Like a river through my rhymes,
Shining deep into hearts,
Brighter than the brightest gold,
For one knows,
How deep a mind can go.

My pen has become my best friend,
Together we lose control,
Beneath the wreath of a writer’s love,
As we dance to every stroll,
For worse or for better,
We go together like birds and feathers,
I pray we stay like this forever
As I soar on this journey of freedom
Where self-worth turns pain to pleasure,
And the world gets put on hold,
Through times of highs and lows,
Only one knows,
How deep a mind can go.

My creativity captures my brain in its rapture,
Through whirls of fairy tales, befores and afters,
Beloved. That is what is written in red,
On the oak tree deep in my mental chapters,
What a beautiful, bold reality
That speaks to me,
When my soul is free,
And so my pen flows,
For one knows,
How deep a mind can go.

I express myself through words,
That is what was laid out for me,
To write through cries and blinded eyes,
Foresee my destiny,
When the world closes in,
I will always have a friend,
For when people get the best of me,
May it continue to keep my spirit sane,
And continue to bless me effortlessly,
I am more than just a poet,
I write for reasons beyond control,
A work of art through the purest heart of one’s soul,
There’s always one story left to be told.
Because only one knows,
How deep a mind can go.

© 2013 Monet Henderson

Dear Little Sister,

Take it from me, it’s not worth the fight
To be in the limelight of perfection
The hourglass figure in instagram pictures
For every young man’s erection
Their reflections are fantasy
Dreams cosmetically achieved
To feed on the weak and insecure
Baby girl you want more than that type of attention ease
You want more than what social media fails to appease
The mind, the soul the intellect
A woman’s character lacking from the world’s internet
Love & Hip Hop won’t make you a star
A true director will cast you as the woman you are
The body, the eyes, and rounded ass
Are just nice to look at, but the epitome of trash
I’ll admit most of it deserves nothing but laughs
And a reason to rip the page from the handbook
Depicting how you’re supposed to look
Take it from me, it ain’t easy being true
When you’re criticized for just being you
One day you’ll realize the true meaning
Of worthless, sad and demeaning
Nothing comes from pleasing somebody else.
Just learn to love yourself.

Dear #TeamSingle,

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It takes true love, patience, dedication and sacrifice to stay with the same person forever. We have all learned that no one on this earth is perfect, but we accept people’s flaws and learn what we can and cannot tolerate in a relationship. Marriage isn’t for everyone, but having someone to build a life with is.  In this world, companionship is crucial to living a fulfilling life even for the people who say that they are happy being single. No one is happy being single and no one really wants to be single. People become content with being alone and over time they start to adapt to their own lifestyles because they are so inwardly focused on themselves. They start putting conditions and requirements on a potential companion: they must have this, own this, act this way, dress this way, be this great and cater to every one of their needs. That idea may hold firm in their 20’s or even 30’s, but eventually the idea of being single as they grow older, starts to catch up with them mentally and emotionally. They may not admit it, but they will picture their lives without a partner to share life’s moments with or children (if they have none) to nurture and care for them as they grow older and they will get scared. They will picture themselves being 80 years old with their past caretakers (mom, dad, grand-mom, grandpa, aunts, uncles and probably most of their friends) now gone, and think, “Who’s going to take care of me?”

I’ve learned that some of the worst friends I’ve had were single. They were either jealous of my relationships or secretly trying to destroy them even during its hard times. Deep down they were miserable people in life who promoted their single lifestyles as being so fantastically great, but most of them were over-achievers, promiscuous, users and manipulators smiling through their loneliness, becoming and staying friends with the most phony of people, all to keep from being lonely. Knowing at the end of the day, all they wanted to come home to was that special someone to make them feel like they really mattered. I mean, how sad is that?

I ask you: Who would you want to help you up when you fall or come to check on you in your sleep? The nursing home aids? The ones who are just waiting for you to die? Who’s going to come visit you or call and check on you when you just want to reminisce on life’s precious moments? Who’s arms are going to wrap around you at night when you’re in your final days? What picture albums will you have to look back on over the years? Bottles of vodka and Facebook selfies? Group pictures of you and friends who you haven’t spoken to in 50 years? Who’s going to hold your hand and look into your eyes giving you that closure and satisfaction that you were deeply loved by someone?  I think of these things as I grow older and it makes me hold on to what I have and appreciate the gift of my companion and two children. Relationships are far from easy, but I know that even when the fake friends leave or most of my family is gone, I will never be alone. So for my single brothers and sisters, I know it isn’t easy to trust people, but never ever EVER give up on true love. It’s out there and, I promise you, someone is waiting to find you. You just have to be willing to invite them in.

Sincerely,
Monet

Image credit: enciktat / 123RF Stock Photo

The Widower

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There’s an empty seat on this bus ride
Bumpy streets and ocean tides
Dumpster dishes and an old rocking chair
That’s broken into shreds
Like the strands of curly hair you left behind
On your side of the bed
The air blows west now, my love
As I squint at this half moon
I feel your breath upon my neck
While cold to death inside this room
There’s a dress you used to wear
I’ve kept it hanging there by the door
And your glass still half full of wine
On top the nightstand dresser drawer
No tears are left to fall my love
I’ve slowly forgotten how to feel
And all the birds have flown away
Since I’ve sat down for a decent meal
The old clock stopped for several days
Though our picture still remains the same
These sheets are lacking more than you
My soul has gone away
Some days I think I’ve passed on too
Other days I seem okay
For now you are just a memory
As I patiently wait to fall asleep
Then I could dream of what life was supposed to be
Complete with you and me.

What Rules?

Why not be the blue rose in the bed of red? I N D I V I D U A L I T Y. I think I discovered this at the age of 14. In high school, my hairstyles were very interesting. Not all the time, but I used to wear claw clips on the sides of my head that made me look like an alien. Some days just 5 headbands, a diamond sticker between my eyes or a mini crown would suffice. I wore scarves every day and boy-like fitted baseball caps with sweats, a T-shirt and Nike’s for at least my whole sophomore year. I wore a silver ring on all 10 of my fingers and died my hair blonde.

It was cool because I said it was cool. Today? I might not have my boy-like attire or fashion scares, but leggings are certainly 90% of my wardrobe. Not to mention, I own only 2 pair of heels, and tend to stick to wearing one pair of boots for the week. My favorite color is still black. I don’t wear very much make-up and somehow or another I think I am still the cutest thing in the world. Are you the lion or the monkey? Be you. Be a muse and be great.

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I Swear This is Temporary…

You ever sit and wonder how you got where you are today? I work two jobs. Not a rare thing for someone who didn’t graduate college. I can hear you judging already. 7 days a week I am a full-time Executive Assistant and a part-time Corporate Security Guard. What a combo. College? Oh yeah, I tried it out and wasted thousands of dollars for a year, but who’s counting pennies right?

I’ve tried the hair school, beauty school, community college, and last but not least, court reporting school. Yep. The only career where you have to basically learn how to read and write in chinese aka STENOGRAPHY which I learned in only 6 months with a capped speed of 175 WPM. Who knew I would be able to write something like: EUPL -T SHEUT SKP HR*S NOG UBG TKAO PW-T!! and millions of people not understand it, hee hee. Now I look at that steno machine in the top of my closet like…how did you ever look so promising? -__-

So, I had the brains throughout my years of schooling. I got good grades, was placed in all “Advanced Placement” classes and never had a problem passing a test, but somehow or another I just knew college wasn’t for me. Is that weird? Or am I just lazy? I just wanted to write. Alone. With no one around to bother me. No test to study for. No bullshit rules. I would have published at least 12 books by now. Everyone was going to know my name, including Oprah. 10 years and 2 children later, here I am, a workaholic.

It is not a low point, no. I am content. I have enough money to pay my bills and take care of my two beautiful children. I can spend a night out with my friends and get my hair and nails done if and when I want. What I mean is I envisioned a life far more fulfilling.  I was destined for far more greatness, but I learned to have patience. My time is coming. I keep my faith in knowing: NOTHING IS EVER WRITTEN IN STONE…

Watch Me Work, a freestyle (Thoughts in my head while at the gym lol)

8610742_sDrip, drip, drip goes,
The sweat down my elbows,
Reflection and skin tone,
Now drenched and red,
Close-fed thoughts of a quitter,
My body precious and thicker than hers,
Wishing and Envisioning
Her sniffling in the mirror when
These thighs are more reckless and sicker than hers
More determined than bitter
Thought I would never compare
Avoiding angles for another skinny chicken to stare
I’m here. I’m not broken
Was built to stay focused
Got my mind on this high
Aiming for that fit token,
Chills flowing down the base of my spine
My eyes is burnin’ now
Who’s waist smaller than mine?
My thighs, they hurtin’ now
My dear, it is evident
You shine through embellishment
While I’m more concerned of looking better wetter in clothes,
Your thoughts of me, IRRELEVANT
Shining through eyes of elegance
And your expression when the betterment of my measurement shows
I feel the sweat in my toes
God damn, these beats knocking!
Got Drake in my ear
And this chick is still watching
Confident with every step I take
Who’s fit now?
Glistening with every sweat I make,
I’ll quit now
Never be so quick to judge my waist
Or underestimate
The rhythm of my size and my shape
Cause right now?
You gotta reach the top to take my crown
Now turn around
And hear your heartbeat sound
Looks like YOU need to sit down.

© 2014 Monet Henderson

The 2014 Grammy’s…In My Humble Opinion

beyFirst and foremost, Beyoncé is everything: the moon, the stars and the earth. She does look a bit skinnier nowadays which is quite disappointing because I always appreciated her thickness. Her face is still GORG though. Did you see her eyes when she turned her head in the beginning of the performance?! I just wanted to scream, “HOLD ME!!”

On a serious note, I only watched the Grammy’s for Beyoncé. Now let’s get to this disappointing performance. Number one: Drunk in Love is sooooooooo not a “performance song,” but I was thinking: I know Bey will be creative. I know Bey will be creative.  I was into it, then got bored waiting for a remix to Drunk in Love to bombard the song followed by 1,000 drunk Beyoncé’s running out on stage with a second remix of the song, Partition then Bey shows up half-naked behind a silhouette while Jay Z sits in this chair with a cigar in his mouth watching her give some amazing sexy dance.  No? Just me? Okay. Look, she was either really drunk in love last night or trying to remember if she packed Blue’s Sippy cup.

Overall, her moves were sexy. Her butt looked great, but to open up the Grammy’s with that? C’mon Bey! WORK WITH ME!!

Jay Z looked rather dapper though and they surely know how to show affection towards each other now. Overall, I still love Bey. She’s still the queen and I hope the next performance involving Drunk in Love is mixed with Partition. That is all.

Pharell’s hat needs a blog post of its own.

Katy Perry is the sexiest witch on the planet. Dope performance.

Kendrick Lamar…………………………………………………………………………………………………………

That’s me trying to find the words to describe this talented rap poetic lyrical genius!!! Talk about robbed from Grammy’s????  His performance with Imagine Dragons should have definitely been the Grammy opening performance. He is way too talented. Kendrick, I genuinely respect you.

Lorde… The fingertips though!… The jerking of her body on stage before the song even started… Did you feel possessed? No? Just me? Mkay.

Jamie Foxx looked great.

I saw absolutely NO reason for Madonna to be there.

MACKLEMORE THOUGH!! To have them serenade 33 straight AND gay couples with their song, Same Love and have the beautiful Queen Latifah pronounce them all married together was seriously like one of the most beautiful moments I had ever seen on television. It brought tears to my eyes, real tears.

Jay Z ended my night with his speech by giving thanks to his daughter, Blue saying “Daddy has a new gold Sippy cup for you.” Grammy = Sippy Cup to Jay-Z. I’ll let that linger.

I seriously question Alicia Key’s sexuality each and every time.

The rest is a blur.

Thank you and good night.

My Weave, Your Problem?

6509590_sIt has been the yin to our yang for centuries, and I am not just speaking of black women. White women and white men wore weaves and wigs as well. In fact, some have dated its revolution back to 3,400 B.C! This was, of course, during the Egyptian times when women like Cleopatra wore wigs even in different colors. (The Nicki Minaj and Lil Kim hair beef has just been settled. You’re welcome.)

Today, when people think of hair weave, they predominantly think of that fake straight hair on that black girl’s head…annnnnnnnd this is where I come in.

The Nerve
I had a friend make a post on Facebook recently saying, “I HATE WEAVE!” His main point was that black women should feel beautiful wearing their natural hair. I actually agree with this statement. Yes! We should! Unfortunately, it will NEVER be that simple. Two words: America & Brainwashed. How about a little history?

It’s All About Control
First and foremost, we live in America aka “WHITE AMERICA.” Europeans brought us here and cut our hair as soon as we got on the boat! They labeled our hair NAPPY, which to them was UGLY and UNATTRACTIVE. For years we have been taught that straight hair was “good hair.” When the slave masters raped and impregnated black women slaves, the product was light-skinned mixed children with “good hair” who were usually the “house niggers” and were treated better than the “cotton picking field niggers”. Yeah, I’m going there.

We were taught that our hair was bad and needed to be fixed. As we evolved and became free, that’s when black people started experimenting with how to straighten our hair. Why? Because straight hair was what was accepted, and this wasn’t about what black people thought LOOKED better. It was about SURVIVAL. As crazy as that sounds, black women AND black men started using hot combs and chemicals to straighten their hair just to fit in society and to become more succesful in their careers.

Nice Try
For a time, there were some brave African-Americans who rocked their big Afros like the black panthers and were all for black power. The Afro was even accepted on shows like Soul Train where men and women portrayed having an Afro and being natural was beautiful, but you see how long that lasted in white America right? When was the last time you saw an Afro Sheen commercial?

The result?
Millions of black people ruining their hair! The beautiful, strong hair that once was, began falling out, becoming weak and brittle. Bald spots were appearing in African-American women’s heads from the lye in relaxers and we needed a fix…WEAVE.

Sidebar: Did you know that hair braiding was once not a money-making business?? We actually did each other’s hair for FREE. I’d like my money back, thanks.

Don’t Hate the Weave, Hate the Man.
If you want someone to blame, blame yourselves! You look at all the magazine covers, models, music videos, these urban party flyers and social media networks like Facebook and Instagram or listen to the lyrics of these rap songs who constantly portray black women with straight, flowing hair as the most beautiful. Also, did you know that some black women actually wear “kinky” weave. Yes, it exists! This is so that we can match our own textured hair for a longer hair look just as white women get their tracks and hair extensions for a more dramatic look. You’ll be surprised how many White, Latin, Indian, Asian and all other raced women wear hair weaves these days, even celebrities, but men are so quick to judge black women for it. This world has become filled with nothing but insecurity, myself included, so this statement is basically a big, F. U. America!

The Conclusion
Weave does not define us. Black women who wear weave should not be frowned upon by men ESPECIALLY black men! Number one: Every black woman is NOT wearing weave today because she wants to look white or wants to get a better job or wants to feel more pretty, some actually have no damn hair or are trying to grow back the natural hair that they lost, YOU FOOLS, so be patient!

Number Two: If your woman is wearing weave just because she does not like her natural hair and you truly love her, you can try to get her help, but still respect her because it came from something far deeper than anything you would ever understand.

Number Three: We are very sensitive about our hair. It is unfortunate, but you have to face reality. I am pretty sure the perception of beautiful hair by women is not going to change especially with all these new weave techniques, wig inventions and weave brands with all the Yaki, Straight, Remy, Virgin, Brazilian, Malaysian, Peruvian, Silky, Buttery Creamy smooth locks of just pure FLAWLESSNESS! <—–I made that up. Excuse the excitement.

AND, NO! YOU STILL CAN’T PULL IT.

Image credit: <a href=’http://www.123rf.com/photo_6509590_illustration-of-indian-asian-oriental-middle-eastern-and-hispanic-women-faces-great-for-avatars-make.html’>basheeradesigns / 123RF Stock Photo</a>

Bittersweet

Wine Splash 1

You may think your life is grand,
As you pose through your worthless shadows
Disguising truths of a miserable man
That pulled me into your selfish love
Of making me your biggest fan.

You slithered and hissed through the meadows
The woods where loyalty once stood
My, my, shade never looked so good.

My eyes, my eyes, they see far more in the deep
My feet, my feet stand firmly on the grounds that you seek
My visions, these visions have never been more clear
To see you hanging and trembling in the coldest air.

What’s that you say? With a voice so faint
I’m sorry these gates are closed
With your crooked eyes and jagged teeth
Inside those sheets and hospital clothes.

Rest now, for you will have nothing left
Besides the image of a two-faced grin
And when you get to that part of town
You will miss your dearly best friend.

© 2013 Monet Henderson

My Right, My Way

I remember when I dreamed of her.
She was older than me.
I was 17.
How imaginative my mind could be.
I thought I was crazy.
What’s wrong with me?
But something inside
was neglecting to hide
my sexuality.

Why did it feel so right?
Flashbacks of being 7 years old envisioning a woman in my life?
What’s wrong with me?!!
No one knew of the confusion.
My mind, my feelings, my thoughts during bed time
were not just a childish illusion.

Until he came and stole those feelings away,
I was “normal” again.
However, in the back of my mind
I saw her.
I ached and longed to enjoy her.
And still I wondered…
What’s wrong with me?
I wanted them BOTH.
The questions never went away.
I would smile in my head when I thought of THEM laying in my bed
Caressing her body with mine
And for a long time,
I hated myself.
Which way do I go?
Him, her, them?
To be called GAY just wouldn’t settle in.
To be questioned again by another concerned friend,
My mission was to make a conscious decision,
Instead the heart was more fond
Of accepting a duo gender bond.

This is MY life.
Whether I choose to stand beside in all white,
My husband or my wife,
It is MY BI RIGHT!
MY BI RIGHT!
Listen, I just wanna live my bisexual life.

© 2013 Monet Henderson

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